


my crystal, my clover

by lochTenderness (theseourbodies)



Series: three things you ought to know [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Middle School, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Canon, Tears, but like lowkey, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness
Summary: Oikawa Tooru does not go to Shiratorizawa
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Series: three things you ought to know [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852432
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	my crystal, my clover

**Author's Note:**

> So because in this fic oikawa is practically a baby still, he spends a lot of this fic equating "tall" with "powerful" and "big" bUT that does not and _should not_ negate any of your pre-existing beefy iwaizumi headcanons. 
> 
> this series will eventually tie in to [honeybody](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832725), which is an iwaaka series.
> 
> Some mood tunes: [you're my crystal and clover/ all of me honestly/ is dedicated to hold you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6RRc0T3l1Co)

Iwaizumi probably isn't getting any taller. That's what his doctor tells him, and that's what he tells Tooru, and the proof is in two years’ worth of physicals with a spare few centimeters of growth to show for all the bellyaching about Iwa-chan's sore shins, his aching joints. Tooru loves him a lot and therefore only gives him the requisite amount of shit for it, and only after he's gotten that grown-up-sad look off Iwa-chan's face. Then, Tooru starts planning, each scheme a little wilder than the last. Tooru can't help it; he doesn't know how else to make the formless mass of emotion in his gut go away. 

"What the-- Oikawa, cut it out!” 

"Just hold on to the headboard, Iwa-chan, it's fine!" 

"No! Shithead, shittykawa, stop it!" 

"Iwa-- Iwa-chan stop kicking me!" 

"Let go of me right now Oik-argh!" 

"Iwa-chan I told you to hang on tight!" 

Tooru's still got a hold of both of Hajime's ankles, and Hajime stares up at him muderously from the floor where he landed because he wasn't _listening_ , he never _listens._ Hajime curls one arm up to palm at the back of his head-- there's no blood, Tooru almost tells him, there's no blood but Hajime is still glaring up at him with glass-shiny eyes suddenly, is pressing his mouth together so hard it's a tight little line under his nose. Tooru hesitates. 

"Iwa-chan?" 

"F-fuck you Oikawa," says Hajime, low, and he has to break the harsh line of his mouth to say the words; it breaks him apart, too, and Tooru watches, horrified, as Hajime's face crumples up. Hajime rolls over as best he can with Tooru still holding his ankles up and buries his crying eyes in the crook of his arm. He coughs out a sound that Tooru wishes was just a sob and Tooru drops his ankles, only just remembering that his hands could open and release as well as hold tightly. 

"Haji-Hajime, Hajime?" 

Hajime curls into himself a little when he's free, tucks his knees loosely up to the side, his chest still twisted to hide his face against his arm on the floor. Tooru drops to his knees-- it shakes the whole world or maybe that’s just his heart pounding. He shuffles up close, curls himself over Hajime to brace his hands wide around his shaking shoulders. Hajime isn't talking or making any noise except the deafening sound of his breath faltering, over and over again. 

"Hajime?" 

It's not hard to bridge over Hajime like this, it's not hard to contain this curled up body under Tooru's because Tooru is bigger. Tooru will always be bigger, now, because Hajime probably isn't getting any taller. That's what his doctor told him, and that's what he had told Tooru and it's really only hitting Tooru right now exactly what that's going to mean. 

Later, Tooru will never tell him that that seals the deal on Tooru's choice for high school. He'd been fence sitting, a little, because there's something more essential about the game to Tooru than there is about Hajime-- never, he'll never tell Iwa-chan that, either, Tooru will carry that secret to the grave-- but that's only if Tooru is getting to play with Iwa-chan, too. 

Shiratorizawa has a reputation. They want big and strong and BIG and Iwaizumi, Tooru's Hajime, will never be that, according to the doctors. Tooru's strong right arm won't ever be a cannon, according to them. 

Rumor has it that Shiratorizawa tapped Ushiwaka, anyway. It's not hard at all for Tooru to decide, for keeps and for real, to give up Shiratorizawa while his best friend cries quietly underneath him. Like a huge weight's been lifted right off him, Tooru relaxes all at once, slipping sideways until he's curled around Hajime's back, cushioning his head on his bent arm.

He doesn't want to play if he's not playing with Hajime, he thinks. A setter can score, but that's not his job; his job is to make sure everyone else gets exactly what they need. On the court, that will be for him to discover, but here on the floor of Tooru's bedroom, he isn't sure what the play is. What do you need, he asks Hajime's twisted, shaking back silently, What can I give you. 

Usually, Hajime is an open book, but usually Tooru can see his face. Usually, Hajime isn’t the one hiding tears. 

"Hajime, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong Oikawa." 

"Ok." Ok, that's data at least. Hajime doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't want Tooru to go. 

"Hey, Hajime?" 

"What, Tooru?" 

Tooru's heart bumps against the inside of his ribs. "We should practice that combination again." 

"What?" 

"The three-mark combination. I want to make sure it's perfect before we graduate and we're juniors who have to beg for practice space again." This play is Tooru's go-to pinch play, though it would take a better eye than any of their current opponents to realize that. It's a specific set to the ‘B’ mark, higher than Hajime usually likes, but as close to the net as he prefers. Tooru's been working on it all year. 

Hajime takes one deep breath in, and then lets it out in one long, slow drag. He's quiet for a long time; Tooru can imagine what he's thinking easily enough, now. In his heart, Hajime isn't a complicated person. He’s always been good at taking care of Tooru, but it’s only recently that he’s been doing it at the expense of himself.

"Yeah," he says finally, rolling over to his back slowly. "Yeah, ok." Hajime looks at Tooru with dry, red eyes. He doesn’t ask if Tooru’s sure. They’ve known one another for a long time.

“Good,” Tooru says quietly, and then heaves himself to his feet. “Then come on, lazy Iwa-chan! We need to snag that court in the park before that basketball playing weirdo swipes it!” 

“I don’t think two volleyball players insisting on using the basketball court get to call any basketball players weirdos, trashkawa.” 

“Iwa-chan, let’s leave the thinking to me, ok? Ouch, hey, not the hair Iwa-chan!”

\--- 

Washijou-san leaves a bad taste in Tooru's mouth even before he starts talking. Every word after he does start talking is a chain draped around Tooru's throat, eager to tighten. He's impressively short, and Tooru despises how he makes the room feel too small anyway. Tooru sits as still as he can and physically clenches his hand over his knee to keep it from bouncing. 

The room is soft golden in the late afternoon sun, and Shiratorizawa is making Tooru promises through Washijou-san that Tooru knows the club can keep. A practical guarantee of playing on the national stage, the best facilities in the region, personalized training and on-call staff just for the club. He'll play the best game he possibly can, Washijou-san tells him. A better game than Tooru can imagine right now. And all Tooru has to do is change everything about the game he plays, the game he's developed over years. 

Washijou-san watches Tooru with unblinking eyes under heavy, ugly eyebrows and talks about serving an ace. He talks about Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Tooru really does choke. It's that or burst out laughing. He hides it well enough, takes a drink of the glass of water left out on the table between them. His hands are shaking, but it's only from the way that his heart is pounding. Tooru is only fifteen years old; still, he's never felt so insulted in his entire young life. 

Every time Washijou-san breathes in, the room gets warmer, closer, more terrible. Tooru wants to be done. He wanted to be done five minutes ago, and it's bad-- he keeps missing words in between reminding himself to blink, to keep one hand on his knee, to not laugh or open his mouth at all or cry. Outside, he thinks, outside Iwa-chan is waiting for me. It's ok for one more minute, and then another after that, and then, finally, it's done. 

Washijou-san stops talking and finally blinks. Tooru takes a deep breath, eases back into the seat back to try and ease some tension in his spine. There's a smile that Iwa-chan hates a lot, one that he says makes Tooru look fake, and Tooru tries to remember what his face had felt like the last time Iwa-chan had said 'stop it with that gross smile, Oikawa.' 

"Thank you for the offer, Washijou-san. Shiratorizawa will be an incredible club with Ushiw-- Ushijima-kun. Please accept my deepest apologies-- I just don't think I'm the right fit for the club 

Behind Washijou-san, his assistant coach freezes, visibly stunned. Washijou-san himself sits for a moment longer and then nods. 

"Very well. To be honest, I don't think you're a good fit, either. Shirtorizawa needs team players, not big fish talent content with the little pond." 

It's cruel, but Tooru doesn't think it's calculated. It still makes Tooru bite his lip hard enough to pinch painfully. He bows himself out of the room with another thank you and a quiet farewell and waits until he's all the way out of the building to wrap his arms around his head and _scream._

As promised, Hajime is waiting for him when he storms over to the second gym. Tooru expects to get pushed away, but he walks right up to him anyway and buries his face in Hajime's shoulder anyway; his hands, balled into fists, are pressed tightly to his thighs still. He thinks he might like another bloody nose, just to clear his head, just to make him stop shaking. 

But Hajime just leans back against the wall, just carries his weight. Tooru’s taller than him already, but it’s not that far to lean down. Almost without Tooru noticing, he gets one hand around Tooru’s wrist and holds him that way, gently and with no pressure. 

There are only two things that Tooru loves; when he fell in love with volleyball, he already loved Hajime. There was no way that anything was going to be better than this, volleyball and Hajime and the game they learned to play together. Tooru’s already made his decision, and it’s a promise he’ll keep. 

**Author's Note:**

> i read a brief but really stunning analysis about Iwaizumi going up against Dateko's blocks and how he's considered small for a WS and even for a volleyball player on average. i immediately started writing about it and this is the result. 
> 
> hit me up on my barren writing [tumblr](https://theseourbodies.tumblr.com/) if you like!


End file.
